Dispatch From the War on Christmas

This whole war has been a nightmare. I was at Circuit City yesterday, looking for a cheap DVD player. Out front they had a “Happy Holidays” banner that must have been in letters three feet high. I stepped under it, may Jesus forgive me, because I knew I had to get in there, but inside was no better. Some damn wreaths, here and there, and lots of lights, but no tree. I swear to God, no Christmas tree at all — I looked everywhere. It was like being in Iraq or something.

I stumbled around with the rest of the shoppers. Everyone was in a daze, bumping into each other. I don’t think any of us knew what to do, except just keep shopping, but I could tell everyone was thinking what I was. But I wasn’t ready to see the DVD player prices, and I lost it.

“FIFTEEN FUCKING PERCENT OFF?”, I shouted. (Sorry for the language. This war has screwed us all up) — “FIFTEEN FUCKING PERCENT? WE’RE SUPPOSED TO BE CELEBRATING THE BIRTH OF OUR LORD AND SAVIOR HERE, AND ALL YOU CAN DO IS A FUCKING FIFTEEN PERCENT OFF?”